


'cause there's no nicer witch than you

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Witch!Ryan, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: Ryan rolls his eyes, reaching up to grab Shane’s hand, tugging him down. Shane goes. He stretches out on the blanket, right in front of Ryan and he waves his hands over Shane’s body, like he’s performing a ritual. Like in movies. Shane laughs.“What are you doing?”Ryan smiles at him, eyes dark. “Magic.”Shane laughs again, rolling his eyes. Whatever makes Ryan happy, Shane will follow a long for a bit. “Are you hexing me?”“I’d never,” Ryan says. His smile is...mischievous, a little like he knows something Shane doesn’t.or; ryan makes a believer out of shane
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 31
Kudos: 258
Collections: Shyan Valentine's Exchange 2020





	'cause there's no nicer witch than you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arostine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arostine/gifts).



> hi friends, i'm back again! this is also for the shyan writing event's valentine's exchange. this one is for katie, who asked for supernatural ryan, and here you go, babe. this was a fun lil thing to write, and i hope everyone enjoys! thank you mel for the beta, you lovely gal.
> 
> title comes from frank sinatra's "witchcraft". 
> 
> [ryan voice] let's get into it.

At this point in the night, the graphics from the TV make Shane’s eyes tired. He’s not quite ready to call it a night, but he’s over the video games. When he looks over at Ryan on the sofa, awake but bored, it seems Ryan feels the same.

Shane hits pause on his controller. “Wanna do something else?” he asks. 

It’s Friday night, Valentine’s Day, and while friends had beckoned them out for a night on the town, Shane and Ryan both agreed a night in would do them some good. It’s been too long since he’s had quality time with Ryan. He won’t go out on a limb and say he’s missed Ryan, but well. He has. It’s a tight little ball of warmth that unfurled the second he’d seen Ryan on his doorstep earlier that night, carrying monstrous sized bags of Taco Bell and his backpack, no doubt stuffed with pajamas. 

Not a toothbrush, though. Cause Shane’s got one for him here. 

They’d eaten until they couldn’t anymore, and then they started in on the beers in Shane’s fridge, and topped it off with a few horror classics they both loved over a couple bowls of popcorn. 

They had a bubble, undisturbed, when Ryan invited himself to settle his feet onto Shane’s lap, and Shane had helped himself to wrapping his hand loose around Ryan’s ankle, rubbing soft shapes against his ankle bone. It was comfortable. Even as they shifted, sitting close together on the couch as they set up for video games, thighs almost touching, elbows nudging, even though the couch could accommodate for a third or fourth person to sit. 

It feels a little like Ryan missed him, too. 

“Like what?” Ryan sets his controller down on the coffee table and stretches his limbs, slumping into the couch. His t-shirt has risen up, and Ryan doesn’t fix it, so there’s this delightful, cliché strip of skin Shane lays vision to, just for a second, before looking at Ryan as Ryan stares up at the ceiling with his head tilted back.

Shane shrugs his shoulders, but he grins. “Light as a feather, stiff as a board?” He means it as a joke, just to see what Ryan will say. 

Ryan looks over at him and rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you need more people for that, and also, you don’t believe a lick of it, so what’s the point in setting it up?” 

“Aww, come on. Make me believe, Ryan!” Shane goads, and Ryan laughs, full and bright. 

Shane feels that ball of warmth bleed through him, just watching Ryan’s unadulterated joy. That’s a lot to deal with most days, but it’s even more now, at a quarter to three in the morning, with Ryan in shredded jeans and a threadbare tee, barefoot as he brings his legs up on the couch and crosses them over Shane’s lap again. 

“You wouldn’t believe it if it bit you in the ass, sir.” Ryan looks at him with light in his tired eyes, smile stretched wide. 

They stare at each other for much too long, Shane’s fingers finding Ryan’s ankle again. Ryan nudges his forearm with his toes. 

“Go get some candles. A number divisible by three, please.” 

“Oh, are we getting romantic tonight? You gonna be my valentine?” Shane asks, voice teasing, but even then, Shane’s eyes trace the way Ryan’s blush _flourishes_ , pretty and pink across his cheeks, the way his eyes become downcast. Ryan takes his legs back, if only to kick Shane’s thigh. 

“Ow!” Shane says, laughing as he stands.

“Go, you menace. Get those candles.” 

Ryan stands up, busying himself with pushing the coffee table up to the edge of the couch. Shane goes into the kitchen to the drawer where he keeps The Rest. It’s just a junk drawer, a place for things that don’t really have homes. Inside it, he finds birthday candles, a flashlight, and a few bigger candles his mom always insisted he kept in case of power outages. They have flat bottoms, and when he tests one on the counter, it stays upright. He brings with him three of the four candles and then a paper plate to catch the wax. 

When he leaves the kitchen, Ryan is sitting cross-legged with his back towards the sliding glass doors, facing the sofa. There’s a blanket on the ground in front of him and a pillow, and it all feels oddly sacrificial. Ryan doesn’t seem to notice him, eyes closed with his hands relaxed on either knee, his lips moving like he’s speaking but Shane can’t quite hear him. 

Ryan’s eyes snap open, finding Shane immediately, and Shane, unexpectant by the sudden attention, jumps a little. 

“Ready?” Ryan asks him, grinning. 

“I guess,” Shane huffs, but he smiles as he sets the candles on the coffee table, remembering he hadn’t grabbed a lighter. “Hang on.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan says, “just lay down.” 

“Why me?”

“I’m stronger than you.” 

“Yeah, I suppose it’ll be easier for you to lift me than me you, but it doesn’t really matter because this isn’t going to work,” Shane reasons. 

Ryan rolls his eyes, reaching up to grab Shane’s hand, tugging him down. Shane goes. He stretches out on the blanket, right in front of Ryan and he waves his hands over Shane’s body, like he’s performing a ritual. Like in _movies_. Shane laughs. 

“What are you doing?” 

Ryan smiles at him, eyes dark. “Magic.” 

Shane laughs again, rolling his eyes. Whatever makes Ryan happy, Shane will follow a long for a bit. “Are you hexing me?” 

“I’d never,” Ryan says. His smile is...mischievous, a little like he knows something Shane doesn’t. 

“You’d stab me with dowsing rods, though.” 

“Absolutely.” 

They both laugh, and then Ryan touches his arm, gentle fingers in the bend of his elbow. Shane shivers at the heat of Ryan’s fingertips, the way his whole body feels alive, buzzing. He’s got it bad for Ryan, sure, but not this bad. Not this fair-maiden-touched-by-prince-charming _bad_. But apparently, his unrequited adoration for Ryan goes that far. Who knew?

“Ready?” Ryan asks, pressing his thumb gently into the sensitive skin at his elbow before drawing his hand away.

Shane shrugs.

“Cross your arms over your chest and close your eyes. Just listen to my voice.” Ryan tucks his fingers underneath the back of Shane’s arm and the middle of his thigh. 

“Is this going to work if the candles aren’t lit?” Shane wonders as he does as he’s asked. His eyes fall shut and he relaxes into the ground beneath him, exhaling.

Ryan ignores him, and in a soft caress of a whisper, his voice begins to chant. “ _Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Light as a feather, stiff as a board_...” 

It’s almost hypnotic, listening to the lilt of Ryan’s whisper. Shane could fall asleep to it, nestled comfortably on the blankets Ryan’s laid out for him, with Ryan right next to him. His body falls lax, coaxed into that wondrous place between sleep and wakefulness, in a limbo that feels hazy, out of reach, just underneath his fingertips. 

His body is buzzing, like an energy has shocked him and he’s got electricity in his veins. He can feel Ryan’s fingertips on his skin, like it’s _coming_ from Ryan. Something, a feeling deep inside of his gut maybe, a whisper at the back of his head, tells him, strangely, to open his eyes. 

“Ryan, buddy, I don’t think—”

When he opens his eyes and turns to look at Ryan, he’s looking straight ahead instead of _up_. Which is _wrong_ , because if he was lying on the floor—

Shane’s heart catapults in his chest and Ryan’s eyes go wide. 

“Don’t panic, you’ll—”

There’s a sharp pain in Shane’s shoulders as he lands on his back, hitting his head against the floor, missing the pillow. “Ow! _Fuck_.” 

“—fall.” 

And then Ryan bursts into giggles, holding his belly and cackling like a mad man. 

“What the _fuck_ , Ryan?” he says, sitting up, looking around the room, weirdly touching his body like he’ll find strings tied to the ceiling.

“What?” Ryan says innocently. “We’re playing a game. I told you I was doing magic.”

“No—no, absolutely—no.” Shane stands up, and when he looks at the coffee table, he notices the candles are lit. “How’d—you were right here, how’d you light the candles?”

“Shane, just sit down,” Ryan says, catching his hand again. “I’ll explain it to you.”

Shane shakes his head. “No, it's fine. It’s all just a dream, right? I’m dreaming?” he feels manic, crazy, like his mind is melting a little, leaking out of his ears. 

“You dream about playing childish sleepover games with me?” Ryan asks, his voice playful. Ryan winds their fingers together and tugs on them, coaxing Shane down. “Come on, please?” 

“Ryan, this isn’t—even _you_! _You_ said you didn’t believe in witchcraft!” 

“Well, obviously, I was _lying_ ,” Ryan says, waving his left hand. “Ghosts and demons are another thing entirely. I can’t just go outing my grandma.” 

“ _Your grandma?!”_

“Yeah, she taught me.” 

Shane takes in a deep breath. “I don’t believe any of this.” 

“What’ll make you believe?” Ryan asks. Ryan’s grip on Shane’s hand is firm, like he’s worried Shane might run. Instead, Shane sits. 

“Nothing,” Shane says petulantly. “How’d you light the candles?” 

Ryan wiggles his fingers. 

“Impossible.” 

“You’re impossible,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. “Watch this.”

Shane watches as Ryan closes his eyes, and all the lights, save for the three candle flames flickering from the coffee table, go out. 

In the dark, it’s just Ryan’s face lit by the glow of the candles. It reminds him of the Old Alton Bridge. (His bridge.) And just as suddenly, the lights come back on. 

“It’s an old building, you know,” Shane reasons. “Probably just a power surge.” 

Ryan grins, unperturbed. Because he _expects_ this from Shane. “How about this?” 

The pillows from Shane’s couch fly into the air, and like over-filled balloons, they pop, fluff flying all around the room. 

“It’s the wind.” All the fluff drops all around them, and Shane glares at him. “You owe me new pillows,” he grumbles. “And you’re cleaning all this up.” 

Ryan laughs, and Shane watches as the fluff lifts, the way Ryan’s eyes dart around the room, and then, the pillows stitch themselves together. Most of them settle neatly back onto the sofa, but one of them comes round and hits Shane over the head.

Shane gasps, then, looking at Ryan’s face, so curious about the man he apparently doesn’t know as well as he’d thought he had. The pillow is forgotten as Ryan bursts into giggles, smiling so brightly it almost hurts to look at him.

“Still don’t believe?” Ryan asks him, face softer now, fingers still tangled. 

“I’m _lucid_ dreaming. I have to be. There’s no universe where this is real,” Shane whispers. 

“There’s this one,” Ryan says as he rises onto his knees, shuffling closer. He takes his hand from Shane’s and then settles both his hands on Shane’s shoulders. Shane isn’t afraid—he’s rarely ever afraid. But he is nervous, the way Ryan leans in really close. 

“Do you feel that?” Ryan whispers. “The energy?” 

The thing is though, Shane does feel it. That electricity, the light, the heat and heaviness of Ryan’s hands; it thrums through him and he feels vibrant, like if he looked at himself he’d be bursting with light at the seams. 

The lights go out again, and it’s just Shane looking up at Ryan, Ryan’s hands on his shoulders and Ryan’s dark, dark eyes looking back at him. 

“I’ve got one more trick,” Ryan whispers, lips close enough to lean in and touch, just take the kiss he’s been wanting for so long. 

“Yeah?” Shane asks, licking his lips, sucking in a quick, sharp breath. 

They’re so close and Shane wants to reach for Ryan, wants to find his hips, his waist, bring him down and close and press himself to the heat of Ryan’s body. He wants so much, all at once, to be enveloped by Ryan, engulfed, feel Ryan all around him, in him, touching him—

Ryan’s lips are so soft but Shane’s heartbeat explodes in his chest, and the warmth had been so subtle before because now it feels like he’s on fire. He does reach then, for Ryan’s body, his waist, and pulls him down, so they land against carpet, with Ryan’s hips tucked between his thighs. 

It feels like his mind is expanding, like there are corners and hallways he’d never ventured into. Like there was darkness and Ryan’s touch is shedding light. Shane’s heart is a lost cause, racing raucously in his chest as Ryan kisses him, hot and slow, like molten lava. Shane couldn’t help but pull Ryan closer, like they weren’t already flush together, like quite possibly, they’d fuse together. 

When their kiss breaks, Shane is panting, but Ryan drifts, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the underside where his pulse runs the wildest. Shane lets his hand find the skin underneath Ryan’s t-shirt, pressing his fingers into the heated flesh of his spine, sighing when Ryan’s soft mouth sucks gently at throat. Ryan pulls back, and Shane can swear to anyone who’d listen that Ryan Bergara keeps moonlight in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Ryan whispers, wearing a smile so clandestine it makes Shane want to be privy to all of Ryan’s secrets. All of them—the good ones, the bad ones, the ugly secrets that should make Shane want to turn away, but he knows it’ll only push him closer. 

“Yeah, hey, _hi_ ,” Shane says back, a little dazed, and not without cause. “Did you put a spell on me?”

Ryan’s laugh is soft, more of a huff of breath than sound. “Would never.” 

“I feel so—” Shane shakes his head, like he can thrust off this hazy mist fogging his mind. It’s like all of his brain cells have conspired against him; every thought that crosses his mind is Ryan _. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan._ “Was that your last trick?” 

Ryan hums. “Do you believe now?” 

Shane shrugs his shoulders, fingers drifting up the expanse of Ryan’s back to settle against his shoulder blades. “I believe in you. And if you’re…” Shane looks around his living room, eyes settling on candles that apparently light themselves, “...if you’re all this, then by transitive property, I suppose you could say that.” 

“ _Transitive_ —” Ryan leans his forehead against Shane’s shoulder and laughs. “You’re an idiot.” 

“And you’re a—what? Witch? Is that like—or a warlock? Uh?” 

Ryan looks down at him, eyes so fond. “Witch is fine. That’s—yeah.” 

“And like—when you kiss me and my mind just starts like—I don’t know. All I can think about is you.”

“Sometimes, energy just fuses. Mine, and yours.” Ryan pauses, his voice dropping into a near whisper when he says, “It makes for great sex.” 

Shane chokes on his breath. “Sex?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan murmurs. “Having sex with someone like me—there’s a lot of energy that’s created, that’s used, and it’s just—” 

There’s a faraway look in Ryan’s eyes, and part of Shane crawls with a little bit of jealousy, knowing Ryan’s experienced that with someone else. It’s unwarranted, he’s not the jealous type, but it still settles, something akin to acid in his stomach.

“Energy?” 

“Mhm. I don’t know. It’s not like I can ask my grandma about sex, Shane. I just know it happens. It’s like, totally being mind-fucked but in the best way. Like you can feel the whole world around you, like you’re _drawing_ from it. It’s the greatest feeling I’ve ever felt. It’s like—that good feeling of being in love, but like fifty million times more.” Ryan pauses, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, nose along his temple in a touch so soft Shane shivers from it. “And I really want to show you.” 

“Show me?” Shane lets his eyes fall closed, drawing his hands down the length of Ryan’s spine to his hips. They’re pressed together, intimately, and it’d be easy to fall into each other, to let Ryan have him, touch him, kiss him undressed, make him pant underneath the covers of his bedsheets.

“I mean, if you want. I’m sort keyed up, and—” Ryan wiggles his hips. “—it feels like you are, too. We don’t have to but.” 

“But.” 

“But I really want you, Shane.” 

In retrospect, Shane had always imagined this moment wildly different. It would have begun in the office, over video editing. Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon as sunlight streamed through the windows, rays of light over Ryan’s forearms as his fingers fly over the keyboard. In the middle of the afternoon, where Ryan wore sweatpants and some old t-shirt, his hair a mess, tucked underneath a backwards cap, sipping room-temperature coffee. Shane’s heart would burst, like it always did when he looked at Ryan, and he would lean over, call for Ryan’s attention, and Ryan would look at him, with eyes alight, mouth quirked confused and Shane would ask him to dinner. _Like a date_ , he’d say. And Ryan would say, _Yes_ , and they’d go. And they’d have a good time, and then Shane would bring Ryan home, buzzed off of classy glasses of wine, kissing as they made their way into Shane’s bedroom. 

This—well. Shane’s caught off-guard because he’d not thought it would be anything like this, with the idea of magic being very, very real, Ryan talking up a storm of how good it can feel to lay with him. He’d never thought it would be like this, with Ryan looking down at him, the light of the moon shining impossibly in the irises of his eyes, like if he looked outside, the moon would be gone from the night sky. 

“It—it doesn’t have to be tonight,” Ryan whispers after a beat. Shane’s eyes search his face, how Ryan bites down on his lip, taking rejection Shane hadn’t offered. “Or like—at all. We can just go to bed. I don’t—I mean, _I_ like you, but I don’t—you didn’t say—” 

“It’s gotta be obvious, Ryan, that I like you a fuckton.” 

Ryan’s smile is blinding. “Yeah? I mean, your dick _is_ jabbing me in the stomach—which, nice, by the way.” 

“Jesus, Ryan,” Shane says, breathing out his laughter. 

“I mean I figured but also like—a lot has happened, and also it’s three in the morning, so.” Ryan shrugs a shoulder. 

Leaning up on an elbow, their chests press together, and he’s got Ryan heavy against him, and Shane can’t help but kiss him again, slowly, surely, like it’s the most certain he’s ever been because it is. Because he hasn’t wanted anyone but Ryan for a while. “I want to,” he whispers. “I really want you to like—give me the works here.” 

“The works?” 

“Yeah. You know, put a spell on me, fuck me, the whole energy, vibes thing. You can’t talk about it like that and think I wouldn’t be into it.” Shane shivers. “Yeah. Yeah, like hold me down and—” 

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan gasps. “What?” 

“I mean, you said your piece about sex. I’m saying mine, now. Well, I guess it’s more of a fantasy, where you just take my wrists and just pin me down to the bed and fuck my brains out.” 

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Ryan groans, leaning in, kissing over Shane’s jaw. 

“I think about it sometimes. Just like—when you do things like push me around or whatever. Sometimes I just think about you just—” Shane cuts himself off. “Hold up. Can we fuck, like, levitating?”

Ryan’s laugh is loud and boisterous and Ryan rolls off of Shane from the force of it. Shane’s laughing, too, and they disperse into giggles, lying in the dark of Shane’s living room, side by side. 

“Well?” Shane presses. 

“I mean, sure. It would take a lot to do that. I mean, I can’t—not right now. But if we planned it, I think I could make it work. For a little while anyway.” 

Shane hums. “I still feel like I’m dreaming, Ryan.” 

“You’re not, I promise. You’re handling all of this surprisingly well.” 

Shane shrugs. “Chill-ass wheat back penny, remember?” 

Ryan reaches out, bunching his hand into the hem of Shane’s t-shirt, scraping fingers like fire over his bare skin. They’re quiet for a moment, and Shane closes his eyes, almost dizzy from the way Ryan just radiates energy. It buzzes over Shane’s skin, melts in, kick starting his heart again. 

“Do you really like me?” Ryan whispers.

“Have for a while,” Shane confesses.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t _you_?” 

“Because! Because—I didn’t—I don’t know. I didn’t want to put myself out there knowing you might turn me down. Because—I don’t know. Sometimes you look at me, and I’d think, there’s no way that motherfucker doesn’t have heart feelings for me.” 

Shane laughs. “Heart feelings? The fuck?” He rolls into Ryan, crowding into his space, looking down at the way Ryan’s flushed cheeks color so prettily. Ryan lifts his hand to touch the side of Shane’s neck, and Shane hums, his body singing with the feeling of Ryan pressing the pad of his thumb right over his throat without pressure, just a thoughtless action as Ryan’s thumb settles in the hollow between his collar bones. Ryan’s hand is warm, almost _hot_ , and Shane wants to drown in all that heat, just let it consume him. Candlelight dances over the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. He looks ethereally beautiful. 

“I don’t know,” Ryan says lowly. “Sometimes you look at me, and you’re so _quiet_ with your face. Sometimes I just think, no, best not ruin what’s already so good. Also, you know. Business partners and all.” 

“That was, like, the most after-est after thought.” 

The intensity in Ryan’s eyes makes Shane’s stomach twist, makes him lean in to touch his mouth to Ryan’s just to feel the way Ryan says, “I’d rather lose a company than lose you, big guy.” 

Shane’s heart flips and frolics and flickers like a faulty flashlight in his chest. It’s such a simple sentiment, one Shane shares wholeheartedly, but this close, intimate, it feels like more. 

“Come on,” Ryan whispers. “Let me take you to bed.” 

Shane stands and offers a hand to Ryan. On his feet, Ryan leads Shane to the bedroom, fingers tangled. Shane’s bedroom is messy, clothes and shit strewn about, but they fall carelessly in a heap onto Shane’s ruffled comforter. 

They’re both tired, but that buzzing feeling underneath Shane’s skin is persistent. Ryan is a heavy weight in his mind, in his heart. There’s nothing other than the feel of him, the scent of his skin as they shed their clothing. They touch so freely, hands over bare shoulders and thighs, eliciting the sweetest sounds. It’s easy to fall here, and that’s something, too, when they look at each other, naked expanses of skin, and all Shane can do is reach to touch Ryan because his fingers crave it, his body aches, like if Ryan isn’t close enough he might crumble into dust. His heart thrums a foreign beat, and Shane breathes Ryan’s name into the air as Ryan touches careful hands over his chest, his waist, his hips, where he wants it the most. Ryan sets the heat of his mouth to Shane’s collar, makes him believe in everything with the deft touch of his clever fingers carefully ruining Shane. 

Emotions run wild; when he presses his palms against Ryan’s chest, they’re tangible, real. They’re clear and blurry at the same time, untamed as Shane soaks in them, feeling them burst inside of him. Ryan is slow with his movements; he takes his time tearing Shane apart, and then mending him back together with his hands. Minutes and seconds seem to pause underneath the soft lamp glow as Ryan looks at him with dangerous eyes. When they kiss, it’s like walking through the maze of Ryan’s thoughts, toeing lines that seem uncrossable, but Shane catapults himself into the center of it all, lets Ryan’s emotions scrape and crawl over his flesh, make a home in the bends of his elbows, the backs of his knees, the nape of his neck. It’s like drowning, or what Shane thinks downing would be. He feels confusion and understanding at the same time. 

They share the same breath when Ryan settles between his thighs, sinking inside and then, it’s truly bliss; it’s neither here nor there, directionless pleasure as Ryan moves above him. Shane only has the sense to curl his legs around Ryan’s waist, drawing him deeper inside, closer pressed, like Ryan can melt into his flesh, live amongst the beat of his heart, the flush of his skin, the feral way his lungs desperately gasp for air. 

Shane combs his fingers through Ryan’s hair, his back arching underneath the heavy heat of Ryan as his hips drive hard against Shane’s. Ryan’s voice is quiet, still so reverent as he leans in close, whispers, “You can feel it, right?” Ryan slows, finding his hands, pressing them into the bedsheets on either side of Shane’s head. 

God, Shane can feel everything, can feel the whole world turning on its axis, orbiting loyally around the sun. With Ryan’s settled so deep inside of him, their bodies pressed like, _yes_ , they can be that close. Shane feels the chill of the nighttime breeze outside, the cool droplets of rain, the greedy way the world soaks with rainfall. He can feel the hum of life, the still quiet of death, like it’s all been tucked inside of his chest, building and building and building until it crashes, and Shane feels like Ryan’s pried apart his ribcage to witness the vicious beat of his heart, the tight expansion of his lungs. 

In a gentle, dream-like haze, Shane’s aware of Ryan, the way he whispers Shane’s name and then collapses heavy on top of Shane’s body. Shane’s greedy for him, touching Ryan wherever he can reach. When Ryan kisses him, it’s like a kaleidoscope of colors, of emotions, all welling up in his chest and threatening to spill over. He feels drunk, intoxicated, _exhausted_ in a way he’s never experienced. 

When Shane finds himself back within the realm of reality, time has passed, enough that Ryan’s cleaned up their mess and pulled the blankets over his waist. 

“You okay?” Ryan asks him, climbing naked underneath the blankets. He moves close to Shane, and Shane turns on his side to look at Ryan, finding his hand so their fingers lace together. Between their palms, Shane believes that magic. He doesn’t know what it is, what it means, or where it comes from, but it bleeds from Ryan and into him, and he can’t really deny it. 

“I have a lot of feelings right now,” Shane whispers, blinking slowly. 

Ryan smiles, “Are you okay, though?” 

Shane nods. “I’m just—I’m processing.” 

Ryan gathers Shane in his arms and pulls him close, and in some lovesick, overly romantic, too-in-his-feelings display of affection, Shane presses a kiss to Ryan’s chest, just over his heart, and presses his ear against his sternum, just so he can listen, like the rhythm will give him the answers he’s looking for.

“I feel—I feel a lot,” Shane whispers. “It’s sorta what I imagined sex would be like if you take ecstasy.” 

Ryan wheezes and Shane feels it more than he hears it, lets his eyes close. 

“I think you really did, like, fuck my brain out of commission, man.” Shane pulls back and looks at Ryan. “Fuck, I think—” 

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving his lungs burning. Ryan arches a brow, and Shane shrugs. Even though there’s a particular set of words on the tip of his tongue, a confession, he can’t say them. It’s not the right time when the wisps of bliss still flutter across his flesh. But he feels it, every bit of those words when he looks at Ryan. And Ryan smiles, a little like he understands, like maybe, somewhere along the line of having Ryan drive him sexually insane, they’ve created something Shane doesn’t recognize, where Shane doesn’t have to say anything at all, and Ryan can still hear him.

“You’ve ruined me for regular people, you know. Sex was pretty cool on its own, and then you had to go and make it all magical, with your _magic_ , and now I’m ruined. Hope you’re cool sleeping with me for the rest of your life, asshole.” Shane rolls his eyes and gives an exaggerated sigh, but Ryan’s laugh is louder now, and Shane reaches up, meets Ryan for a kiss.

“You’ll be fine, you idiot,” Ryan says. “But like. That’s?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m good with that arrangement.” 

“Aww, Ryan. Do you want to be with me forever?” 

“Fuck you, Shane.” 

They laugh, and they kiss, and when Ryan rolls onto his back as the sun wakes, drowsily rising over the edge of the horizon, Shane tucks himself into Ryan’s side, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder. 

“Are _you_ okay?” Shane wonders aloud. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I’ll be honest and say I’ve never quite felt it like _that_ before.” 

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Shane murmurs.

Just as he settles into the grasp of sleep, a song plagues his mind. And he’s humming before he knows it, Ryan shuffling underneath him. Their thighs tangle together and Ryan’s fingers trip over Shane’s where they’re settled over Ryan’s shoulder. 

“What are you singing?” Ryan whispers. 

Their fingers tangle, and Ryan presses a kiss to Shane’s knuckles.

“ _It’s such an ancient pitch, but one that I’d never switch, ‘cause there’s no nicer witch than you._ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr!](https://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com/)


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